


A Month Is a Long Time to Waste

by wordsphoenix



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Because it's them, Feelings, Getting Together, Lots of dialogue, M/M, Mostly Tuckington, Swearing, Tucker POV, basically fluff, but it isn't really graphic, canon-typical violence is I guess also an applicable tag, other characters only pop in for a few minutes at a time, post s12 pre s13, responsible human Tucker, team mom Washington, that month in between seasons, they go on a mission but it's still mostly fluff, written before 15 started though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:01:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10858272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsphoenix/pseuds/wordsphoenix
Summary: Tucker decides he might as well keep training after the merging of the Fed and rebel armies. Not like he's doing anything else with his free time. Or, he could be doing Wash, but he has to admit he has a crush on him first.





	A Month Is a Long Time to Waste

"Do you ever wonder why we're here?"

"I was under the impression it was to stop Charon from using Project Freelancer's equipment to destroy this planet and a bunch of others."

"No." Tucker turned to face Wash. "I mean, why are we here here? Like, beyond the obvious, what purpose did that ship crash serve?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean by-"

"I don't necessarily mean anything. I'm just frustrated."

"Frustrated?"

"Yeah. I have to sit around waiting for Charon to attack us, so we can beat them and save the world and whatever. Meanwhile some really good UNSC-funded nanny and a bunch of other soldiers are raising my kid."

"I'm sorry. I don't know that I-"

"You don't actually have to say anything back. I'm just venting. It's harder to do with Church, now he's stuck in Carolina's helmet and also a know-it-all, and there are a whole lot of things I'd rather do than talk to Caboose, and I- I don't know, man, I guess I thought we were friends."

"We are friends."

"Think so?"

"Yeah. When enemies make fun of me for protecting my friends- and I'm guessing from the way they add 'red and blue idiots' or 'those glorified sim troopers' that they mean you guys- I don't need to correct them because they're right. About the friends thing. I don't actually think you're all idiots."

"Nice save."

"Thanks. If it makes you feel any better, I've heard military nannies are really expensive. And at least this way you know he's safe."

"Safer than when they sent us out on some of those diplomatic missions. I also know for a fact Lena's charging them waaay too much."

"Is Lena the nanny?"

"Yeah, she's an old friend of mine from basic. Her knee got taken out a few years ago. It's a win-win situation. I know my kid is being taken care of by someone I trust, and the military pays Lena twice what they did before." Well, win-win minus the part he almost never got to see Junior, but Wash had probably heard enough self-pity for one afternoon. After a minute, Tucker added, "You know you don't have to make small talk. Or say something wise and meaningful. We could just stand here until one of us gets bored and leaves."

"I was just going to suggest that you try and find something useful to do while we wait. I can tell you from experience that waiting's a lot easier when you have a good distraction."

"And there it is. I don't know why I'm surprised." Tucker turned to go, anyway. "Thanks for the talk, Wash. I just realized I have an important distraction waiting for me in the mess hall."

"Now you sound like Grif."

"By distraction I meant beautiful woman that will hopefully be sleeping in my room tonight."

"I don't know why I'm surprised."

With a parting "bow chicka bow wow," Tucker walked back into base.

 

“I want you to train me.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’ve been offering moral support for like two months now. This really shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

Wash still sounded uncertain. “Right.”

"Also you said I needed a distraction, and since apparently no one in this base is interested in sleeping with me- something about being 'too busy for relationships' or it being 'inappropriate to lay a commanding officer'- this was my next best idea."

"Really?"

"No. This is actually third on the list after 'stop fucking up responsibilities,' but that one only goes into effect when we're on a mission. I also thought this might help me screw up slightly less than usual, so there's that."

"You're quite the optimist. And I wasn't asking about your other ideas, I- never mind. Did you have any idea of where you wanted to start?"

"I came here hoping you could maybe teach me how not to suck. Let's start there."

"Have you been keeping up with your drills?"

"You mean have I been doing 600 squats a day?"

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"So, what is it this time? Six laps? Twelve? Are you going to make me carry something heavy while I do it?"

"I was thinking I'd send you through the obstacle course I made for the other soldiers. To see where you are in your training."

"Another obstacle course. Great."

"Believe it or not, your skill level is a lot higher than theirs. This should be easy for you." Was that- was he smiling? Tucker couldn't tell. Probably better that he couldn't. Probably would have made his day that much shittier seeing Wash laugh at him.

"Reassuring." Tucker scanned the training room and spotted a door that looked more like a recently-torn hole in the wall. "Is the obstacle course that way?"

"Yes."

Tucker took a few steps towards the door before Wash's voice stopped him.

"Tucker?"

"What?"

"You know you don't have to do it. It was just a suggestion."

Tucker sighed. "Look at it this way. We may technically be the same rank now- not that either of us has had a rank since, like, Sidewinder- but I know for a fact that my life's going to be easier if I do the training you tell me to do."

"That doesn't sound like you. Are you sure you're okay?"

Sure he was- had Wash asked a first time? Tucker filed that away for later and got on to his next excuse. "Also if I listen to you I don't have to come up with a training plan for myself. I can recognize this is the best idea even if I don't like it." In a past life, he might not have gone along with the best idea- more like recognized it and said 'fuck no.' But Wash had had a point back there in wherever Carolina had teleported them and shit why was Tucker thinking so much about Wash?

Wash hesitated. "You should probably get going, then. I have a group of soldiers coming in in an hour and we won't have time to assess your skills if you don't get through the course before that."

"An hour. Great," Tucker repeated, trying not to dwell on the fact that Wash had just used 'we' when he really should have said 'I.' Maybe it was good Tucker was going through the obstacle course. Being shot at by a bunch of simulated aliens would help him clear his head.

Or it'd make him miss Junior more, but at least that would distract him from whatever was going on with Wash.

Which would also defeat the purpose of this whole thing in the first place. Great. "See you on the other side," Tucker said, and walked off into the obstacle course.

Twenty minutes later, he deactivated his sword and stopped a few feet from Wash, who was standing at the end of the course in what Tucker could only assume was astonished silence.

"You were right. It was easy."

After a few more seconds of Wash trying to figure out how to respond to that- and processing the fact that his exaggeration of Tucker's skills earlier hadn't been an exaggeration- he said, "I run harder drills with some of the other experienced soldiers in the morning before regular practice starts. Come here tomorrow at six o'clock for training."

"So I have to wake up even earlier now? Fantastic. Didn't you say something about assessing my skills before? Is there a highlight reel you want to play back to point out my sloppy form or something?"

"No. I... think I've seen enough to know where you stand."

"Awesome. See you at six a.m."

 

Six a.m. was really fucking early.

"How are you all awake right now?" Tucker glanced around the room. Wash's 'special squad,' as Caboose called it, consisted of a few higher-ranking Feds and Rebels, Sarge (which Tucker really should have expected since they were the only ones sent out on real missions), and- "Carolina? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to talk to Wash. You didn't actually think I was going to train with you guys, did you?"

"Yes. I thought you, freelancer martial artist extraordinaire, were going to train with a room full of D-list soldiers."

Wash was grinning. "There's no need to insult your fellow soldiers, Tucker. Especially not five minutes before you start attempting to demobilize each other."

"Thanks for the tip, Wash. And I hardly think that was an insult. D-list was being generous."

"I can see you've got your hands full here. I'll come back later," Carolina said.

"I look forward to it," replied Wash.

Before Carolina'd made it all the way to the door, Tucker called out, "Thanks for saying hello, asshole!"

Church appeared at Carolina's soldier. "I have things to do, Tucker. I can't waste RAM to pop out here every time you want to complain about the weather."

"Whatever."

"We're leaving," Carolina said pointedly. Tucker couldn't be sure if she was talking to him or Church, but he didn't think it mattered.

"Have fun in training, numbnuts!"

"Have fun with your ones and zeroes, fuckface!" Church had already disappeared by the time Tucker said it.

He definitely heard him, though, because Tucker heard Carolina say, " _Epsilon_ ," angrily as she was leaving.

"Now that's settled," Wash said, in a tone that implied Tucker should get in line with the other soldiers or face the consequences.

Good old Wash. Always ordering people around in a not-at-all-hot way.

Because that was a helpful thing to think before doing nine trillion squats.

Wash didn't have them do nine trillion squats, but he did run them through a pretty exhausting warm-up before they even got to the actual training part. Which consisted of hand-to-hand combat and Tucker getting knocked on his ass. A lot. Finally, they were dismissed for breakfast. Wash approached Tucker, who was lying on the ground, helmet already off, wondering why he'd decided to train in the first place.

"This is your fault," he said to the stupidly-grinning face hovering over him. "I should stop taking your advice."

Wash's expression turned serious. "Why don't you?"

"I don't know," Tucker said, forcing himself into sitting position. "If I figure it out I'll let you know." That was mostly a lie; Tucker knew that he liked the idea of being good at what he did and that going back to training gave him an excuse to be around Wash more often. But he wasn't about to admit any of that to the person standing next to him, so-

"If I didn't know any better I'd say it was because it was good advice." Wash offered a hand.

Tucker took it, pulling himself to his feet. "Was that self-deprecating, or are you saying I'm not good at taking advice?"

"Both." Wash dropped his hand, and Tucker felt a twinge of frustration and annoyance. Frustration at the loss of contact and annoyance at himself for feeling that way.

Damnit. "Cool. I'm going to hit the showers." Hungry as he was, Tucker did also need to shower, and it'd give him a chance to clear his head. Which would ideally be more successful than the obstacle course yesterday. Because apparently he needed lots of chances to clear his head now. Because of Wash.

"You did good today. You should be proud of how far you've come." Wash kept saying that. It didn't make Tucker feel different. He just... felt like him. Still a fuck-up. Still a few mistakes away from losing everything he'd gotten back.

Including Wash. Who even though he was standing right there was very very high on Tucker's list of people he worried about the most.

"Thanks," Tucker said. "I'll see you later."

He felt kind of dazed as he walked out of the training room and went down to his room. One too many unexpected realizations, probably. Being a good enough soldier to do harder training and actually keep up with it. Caring about Wash beyond their friendship and the fact that he was nicer to look at than anybody else on base.

"Oh, shit." Tucker rarely classified someone as the hottest person in the general vicinity- let alone using a word as innocuous as 'nice'- if he didn't have feelings for them. The kind of feelings that threatened his reputation as looking-for-a-good-time-and-nothing-else guy and had gotten the shit beat out of him more than once in high school. And basic. And before Blood Gulch.

"Shit," he said again. Maybe he wasn't... as much of a player as he thought.

"Don't even think that," Tucker said aloud to himself. At least he was in the shower. Talking to yourself was a lot more acceptable in the shower than it was staring into a bathroom mirror. "You're still an irresistible war hero."

War hero was pushing it, but Tucker knew based on the way that one soldier he'd hit on implied it would be great to lay a commanding officer _in aqua armor_ that he hadn't lost his charm. So, if he was still the most fuckable person on base, and if he had maybe kind of gotten a little bit of a crush on Wash-

“No. Absolutely not.”

He slipped and knocked over the bodywash when a voice called, “Are you almost done? I’d like to shower sometime this week.” It was Grif. Who unfortunately had the room next to his and thus shared his bathroom. At least they had their own sinks.

“I’ll be out in a second.” Tucker turned off the water and gave himself ten seconds to get his shit together. Then he yelled, “All yours,” and left the bathroom for Grif.

“Jesus. How long were you in the shower?”

Tucker ignored him.

“You do not have a crush on Wash,” he tried. To himself. In the mirror. His underwear-melting brown eyes begged to differ. “God damnit!”

Well. If this crush bullshit wasn’t going away anytime soon… He was going to have to seduce Wash. It was the only way.

 

Former freelancer agent and clueless team mom Washington was fucking terrible at knowing when people were flirting with him.

It’d been great when Tucker got to watch other people get deflected by Wash’s obliviousness. Now it was just a pain in the ass.

“Bow chicka bow wow,” he muttered under his breath.

“Sorry, Tucker?”

“Nothing.” As usual, Tucker alternated between daydreaming about Wash and flat-out staring at him during morning practice. Which resulted in more of him falling on his ass, but it wasn’t like anybody could tell he was gazing longingly at the guy who was technically his CO.

“As I was saying…”

Tucker shouldn’t be staring at him so often. He was wearing armor, for fuck’s sake. And yet-

“… effectively bringing an end to the fight. Any questions?”

Looked like Tucker was about to get knocked on his ass. Again. As if having a hopeless crush on the most hopeless soldier on the planet hadn’t already done that to him.

Ugh. Feelings. “Can you repeat everything you just said only say it in a way that actually makes me pay attention?”

“Very funny, soldier. Get paired off and get to work.”

Yes. Funny how Tucker’s pick-up-lines died in his throat when it actually came time to say them. “Maybe I am turning into Church.”

“Son, I sincerely hope not.” Fuck. He was going to be fighting Sarge.

Sarge might not be best with technique, but he definitely had the brute force part down. "Agreed." And then they were fighting, and Tucker was losing, again, and then he was on his back and shit why had Wash come over?

"I take it you were serious about not paying attention?"

"Yes." Tucker took the hand being offered to him and dragged himself up.

"Might I ask what about that lecture was hard to follow? So I don't do it again next time?"

Tucker shook his head. "It's mostly my fault. And you couldn't avoid it if you tried."

Wash cocked his head slightly, and Tucker could feel the eye contact through their visors. He released Tucker's hand, too late. "We can discuss it after class, soldier."

Oh, yeah, Tucker thought as he watched Wash walk away. He was totally fucking fucked.

Sarge continued to wipe the floor with him for the rest of practice. This time he bowed out five minutes before the official end of the session so he could rip off his helmet and lay on the floor for a while before being interrogated by Wash.

What was he going to say to him? Hey, Wash, sorry I wasn't paying attention, I have a massive crush on you?

Wait, would that work?

"Captain Tucker." He opened his eyes. Wash wasn’t smiling this time.

"What am I supposed to call you now?"

"I'm good with Wash."

"Then I'm good with Tucker."

He did the hand thing for a third time. Tucker wondered whether it'd ever be the other way around and realized he probably didn't want it to be, because that would mean Wash had gotten hurt.

Oh, this was bad.

Tucker dropped his hand to his side as Wash said, "So, what you mentioned earlier..."

"Yeah. We don't have to talk about that. It's really not that big a deal."

"If it's keeping you from paying attention at practice, it must be important."

"Nope. I'm just an idiot. Business as usual."

Wash held his eyes for a long second. "You know, you can talk to me. Even if I don't have advice, I'm still willing to listen."

"I don't know. You seem pretty clueless about this when it comes from anyone else." Which was the exact wrong thing to say, because it made Wash's eyebrows pull together and he looked hurt. Disappointed.

"Tucker, I-"

"No. It's not you. I'm sorry. This one's totally my fault. I shouldn't have said anything."

He still looked sad. "If I'm missing something and it's a problem for you-"

"Why won't you believe me?" It came out quieter than Tucker meant it to. Maybe because he was standing a little closer than normal to Wash. Closer than people used to armor and helmet radios usually stood when they were talking.

A spark of realization flashed in Wash's eyes. He should have looked away, Tucker thought, one of them should have looked away to make sure no one else was left in the room. Well. Wash had years of training and probably didn't need to look, and Tucker didn't care.

He should have. But he never had.

"Could it be," Wash said, leaning closer, "that you're talking about people flirting with me?"

A wave of relief- and one of crippling fear, but he tended to ignore those- smashed into Tucker. "You noticed?"

"Of course I notice. I just choose to ignore it most of the time. Especially coming from people I expect a higher caliber of pick-up lines from."

"Oh my god," Tucker exhaled, glanced away, glanced back. "Are you seriously about to lecture me about not putting enough effort into this?"

"No. Quite the opposite, I-" He was smiling like an idiot. "I was going to say that you seemed nervous, and that it would be cute if I wasn't worried about you."

"Worried?"

"Until I found out why just now."

"Oh." Tucker's brain ran over the sentence 'Wash cares' a couple hundred times before he was able to respond. "Cute as in you're interested, complete lack of decent flirting aside?"

For a second, Wash was beaming. Then he said, "You talk too much," and then they were kissing.

 

"Holy shit," Tucker said, staring at the ceiling.

"Good or bad?"

"Good. I think? I mean, holy shit, what did we just do?"

"Are you asking for a play-by-play?"

"You adorable smartass. No. I'm asking whether or not we just fucked this up."

Wash sat up, sounding even more alert than he had before. "This like our friendship this?"

"Yes. Having sex with your friends sometimes fucks that up."

"Does it have to?"

Tucker stared up at him, finally meeting his eyes. "Depends, I guess. Are things gonna get weird?"

Wash opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and said, "I wasn't planning on making them weird."

"Good. Neither was I."

"But I can't pretend I don’t have feelings for you."

Tucker threw an arm over his face and resisted the urge to groan.

"Is that your subtle way of telling me your nervousness was all sexual tension and no feelings?"

"No." Tucker’s voice was muffled by the arm. He didn't really want to move it, though.

"So... You have a hard time with feelings, then?"

Okay. Now he _had_ to look at him again. Wash was wearing a politely curious expression, which was super gross and did not clarify that he had feelings at all, but Tucker could roll with that. "What gave it away?"

Wash looked at him for a moment. Then, "Having feelings isn't necessarily going to ruin our friendship."

"I know."

"It doesn't even have to really change it."

"I know."

"But you're afraid it will."

Tucker sighed.

"I'm afraid, too."

"No, you're not. You're ecstatic. You look like Christmas came early. And like your present was a warehouse full of new equipment."

"Sex with you is significantly better than a warehouse full of new equipment."

"Not if it messes up our friendship." When Wash just stared, eyebrows raised, Tucker added, "Okay. That was worth it even if it does mess up our friendship."

"I don't think it will."

"You don't think having feelings will mess up... oh."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I guess if you also have feelings it was fucked from the beginning."

"Was it?"

"Before we existed in a constant state of sexual tension. Our friendship was fine, because both of us ignored it. Now it'll be worse, because we've actually had sex- and I'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume you want to do it again?"

"Absolutely."

"So, yeah. That combined with the feelings part kind of shoots our friendship to hell. I'm not saying we're going to stumble out of here all drunk in love or whatever, but the chances of this staying out of the actual relationship zone are pretty nonexistent."

Wash shook his head slightly. "I think it counts as an actual relationship regardless of whether or not we have sex. Or feelings."

"Nope. Feelings make it an actual relationship. Which, and this has nothing to do with you personally, does not sound like the greatest idea in the middle of a war zone."

"So you don't want a relationship?"

"Again, nothing against you, but no.” Actually, Tucker’s brain was currently going back and forth between ‘of course I want a relationship what are you doing you moron’ and ‘don’t you fucking dare go down that road,’ so he decided to keep it ambiguous. “I think we should just… play it by ear, I guess. I’m not saying we avoid the feelings completely, but I don’t think we should go skipping around the hallways holding hands either.”

Wash smirked. “Are you sure? That sounds kind of fun.”

“Fuck off.” Tucker put his arm back over his face.

“That’d be a little difficult, since we’re in my room.”

“Ugh. What time is it?”

“Time for a meeting with Carolina after breakfast that we’ll both be late for if we don’t get in the shower ten minutes ago.”

“Fuck!” Tucker flung his arm down on the bed and glanced at the clock. “She’s gonna kill us.”

“I’d like to spend more time basking in post-coital bliss, too, but I have it on good authority she gets progressively angrier the longer someone makes her wait. I’m sorry we missed breakfast.” Wash waited for Tucker to sit up before he moved, though, which was really considerate and made Tucker’s heart wrench in his chest.

God. “It’s not your fault I seduced you. And I think I have some Pop Tarts in my room. We should be fine as long as nobody sees us and rats us out to Carolina before we get to the meeting.”

“Thanks. Think you can make it to your room and back unnoticed while I start the shower?” Wash was in the bathroom doorway, completely fucking naked, and smiling conspiratorially.

Tucker froze. He processed his first thought, which was that Wash wanted to keep spending time with him naked right now, and his second thought, which was that showering together fell under the umbrella of ‘feelings,’ and finally got to the rational part of his brain. “You seriously think we can shower together and not end up having sex again?”

Wash crossed the room, pulled him in for a kiss that was a few sappy thoughts short of being flat-out mouth fucking, and then moved back, two inches from Tucker’s face. “I think it’s worth the risk. She’ll be pissed, anyway.”

At that point Tucker’s thoughts (and his dick) were screaming that he should stay holed up in Wash’s room with him until the world ended, angry Carolina or not. “Um…” He forced himself to concentrate. “Didn’t you say she’d be angrier the longer we waited?”

Wash’s lips had moved to his jaw. “She won’t send someone to come and find us for at least twenty more minutes.”

Despite the fact that Tucker could feel the words being said against his skin and that felt really fucking good, the thought of having someone find them- which might force him to work out how serious he was willing to be waaaay before he was ready to- was enough to get him to slide back a few inches. “No more making out until after we escape whatever hell Carolina has waiting.”

“What about kissing?”

Tucker kissed him once, twice, slowly, somehow managing not to involve tongue. “Get in the shower. I’ll go get the Pop Tarts.”

By some miracle, they were less than fifteen minutes late, and Carolina let them off easy. A glare, a frustrated sigh, a be-late-again-and-I’ll-rip-out-your-most-precious-organs kind of threat, and the two of them were in the clear. Well, aside from the weird looks Kimball and Simmons were giving them, but Tucker’s hair wasn’t wet, so they had no proof.

And then there was the thought of what would happen if they did have proof, if Carolina had sent someone looking for them, and, well…

Carolina was saying something important. “We have enough supplies to get us through the next couple weeks, but Kimball wants to send some of you out soon.”

“Right,” Kimball took over. “We’ve lined up a few missions that aren’t too high-stakes, so I’m willing to take volunteers.”

“I’ll go,” Wash said. Immediately. Like he hadn’t just turned Tucker’s universe upside-down. Like everything was the way it was three hours ago.

Two could play at that game. “I can do one, too.” At Wash’s expectant sidelong look, Tucker added, “Not like I’m doing much for the war effort sitting around here.”

“Great. You can go out in a few days, bring some soldiers with you. I won’t let it be said I’m not fair about dividing work, though, so…” She slid her eyes around the room. Kimball wasn’t wearing her helmet, and between her confident smile, piercing eyes, and tightly pulled back brown hair, she looked more intimidating with it off. Most of the people in the room were reds, blues, or rebels, but there were a few Feds thrown in for good measure. It was obvious she expected them to be jumping at the chance to volunteer.

“Um, sir…” Simmons’s voice dropped in volume the second she trained her eyes on him.

“Yes, Captain Simmons?”

“Maybe if you told us more about the missions…”

“Of course.” She didn’t look like she was getting impatient, but sometimes it was hard to tell until she exploded with rage. Kimball turned to the holoscreen behind her and pulled up a few maps. “Since Captain Tucker and Colonel Washington volunteered first-”

Tucker heard Wash mutter to Carolina, “When did I get promoted?”

“Just go with it,” she hissed back.

“-they will be in charge of the first mission, which will include coming up with a plan, breaking into this facility, and stealing everything we can get our hands on. The same basic mission structure applies to the other two, which will take place here and here at later dates. Any questions?” She spoke very slowly, staring at Simmons. It was obvious that if anyone did have questions they had a 50-50 chance of getting shot. Or maybe 80-20.

“No, sir.” Simmons’s voice cracked about six times as he said it.

“Wonderful. Now, are there any other volunteers?”

Newly-minted Colonel Carolina (again with the fucking promotions), two Feds, and one rebel volunteered to lead the rest of the missions. In keeping with the spirit of cooperation, Kimball made the Feds split up. Apparently there was no problem with Wash and Tucker’s mission, since they’d ended up on opposite sides before. Kimball didn’t shoot anyone, but she still looked like she wanted to. Tucker did not envy Doyle the meeting he was walking into.

“What was that?”

Tucker raised his eyebrows, figuring Wash would sense it anyway.

Wash let out an impatient sigh and tried again. “Why did you volunteer for the mission?”

“Because I’m fucking bored.”

More staring each other down through their stupid helmets. Tucker was pretty sure by the end of it they would’ve been making out if not for the helmets.

Finally, Wash said, “Fine.”

“I don’t need your permission to go on missions.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“I don’t need your permission to go on missions, Colonel. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m kinda outside your jurisdiction.”

After another minute of staring, Wash said, “Didn’t seem that way half an hour ago.”

Motherfucker. “I swear to god, dude. We’ve been doing this for less than a day.”

“I know. Isn’t it great?”

Yes. It was. Very great. “Don’t you have some morons whose lives you have to make miserable?”

“Not for another twenty minutes.” He took a step closer to Tucker.

“Jesus! What has gotten into you?”

“Hopefully you. In my room. In five minutes.”

Tucker was glad he was wearing a helmet, because he couldn’t have controlled his facial expressions if his life depended on it. He closed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“I-”

“Wash!” Staring staring staring. “While I appreciate the offer- and fully intend to take it up with you sometime soon, like, really soon- I think it’d be better if we didn’t negotiate whose turn it was to bottom in the middle of the fucking hallway.”

“Anyone could have heard you just now.”

“I know.”

“We’re still probably gonna get caught.”

“So we should make the most of it by speeding up the process?”

Wash visibly turned away. “I guess you’re right.”

Tucker collapsed against the nearest wall. “Yeah.”

“I guess I just…” Shit that was his feelings voice, “I guess I just wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything. Before it got weird.” He was definitely trying for eye contact again.

So Tucker took off his helmet. “I thought we were doing it anyway.”

“We are.”

“And I thought you weren’t planning on making it weird.”

“I wasn’t.”

“So…?”

“So, I-”

“Take off your fucking helmet.”

“What?”

“Take. Off. Your. Helmet.”

Wash did, looking surprised but not saying anything.

Tucker locked eyes with him. “I’m not going anywhere, Wash.”

He blushed, and it was fucking beautiful, and he leaned down as Tucker slid his hand up to rest on the back of his neck, and the kiss was sweeter than any of the others they’d had before. Like. Go get checked for cavities sweet. Like Tucker didn’t do that unless he was whipped sweet.

So. Yeah. Good times.

When Tucker moved his hand away and slid back, Wash looked dazed.

“Okay?” Tucker asked.

“Yeah. It’s- we’re good.”

“Good. Now put your helmet on before we start banging in the middle of this hallway.”

Tucker caught Wash’s smirk before the helmet got in the way. Hell, he could hear it. “Whatever you say, Captain Tucker.”

Tucker jammed his own helmet back on to hide whatever his face was doing and said, “You’d think she would have told you you were promoted.”

“Maybe that’s why Carolina wanted me there early.”

“She what?”

Wash shrugged. “I’m not complaining. I found a much better way to spend my time.”

“Yeah,” Tucker said, only then realizing how completely and utterly gone he was, “I think we’ve both found a nice distraction.”

And then he nudged Wash’s shoulder for good measure. Yep. He was completely fucked.

Tucker didn’t think he minded, though.

 

It was the night before the mission and they were in Wash’s room again having just attempted to fuck away some of their nervous energy. They were in bed, and still kind of out of it, neither of them caring, when Wash’s hand slowed where it was moving up and down Tucker’s shoulder and he said, "My real name's David."

Tucker was laying on Wash’s chest, almost drifting off, but something in Wash’s tone snapped him back to reality. Wash was tense underneath him, and Tucker reacted by tensing slightly, and Wash reacted by stopping his hand. Tucker hesitated. "Do you want me to-"

"I don't want you to do anything. I just thought you should know. I'm so used to 'Wash' now, anyway, I don't really- I don't think it'd feel right being called anything else."

After a minute, Tucker said, "I think I know what you mean. I've never had a problem with my first name, but if people started using it I think it'd sound too weird."

"Military habits."

"No kidding." Tucker moved his thumb back and forth in the crease of Wash’s elbow. He liked small, reassuring touches. “Are you tired?”

“Not really. The only way I sleep before missions is if I knock myself out with one of Grey’s ‘safe’ sleeping pills.”

“She gave me one once after a training accident and I slept for like twelve hours. What do you think she puts in them?”

“If I knew I might not have so much free time to spend with you.”

Tucker didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until Wash started rubbing his shoulder again. Couldn’t for the life of him figure out what about Wash’s response had caused him to react like that.

“Want to go again?”

“Yeah.” Tucker shook off the feeling and leaned up to find Wash’s lips. “I wouldn’t have gotten much sleep, either.”

 

They probably got four hours between them, which was pretty decent considering Wash’s track record. Enough of the night is spent not having sex that they don’t end up strung out and sleep deprived, so Tucker’s only slightly nervous as they meet up with their squad to get weapons. It’s still early. But he’s getting used to early.

Like he’s getting used to the way Wash almost smiles at little things. And the way he licks his lips after looking at Tucker’s.

“Bit early for a mission to leave,” commented Simmons, yanking Tucker out of his dreamy and honestly disgusting thoughts.

“Yeah. Sorry. You probably had to get up for this, right?”

Simmons shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal when I’m not sharing a room with Grif. I only have to set a schedule for myself instead of being in charge of everybody else’s.”

“Did Sarge not have an alarm clock?”

“Nope. Had to use it for cyborg parts.”

Tucker shook his head. “I don’t think I’m ever going to understand how we’ve survived this long. I mean, seriously. How many times has Donut been shot? Wasn’t Doc stuck in a wall at one point?”

“I’ve lost count and yes. And that was just because of Wash and the Meta. Imagine if you added all the times Church has gotten killed.”

Tucker hangs on the first part, staring at Wash while he chats with their squad a few feet away. “He’s changed.” When Simmons’s failure to reply prompts Tucker to glance back at him, he sees Simmons has that knowing look. “Oh, whatever. Don’t even get me started on you and Grif.”

Simmons’s ears went red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Here’s your gun. Have a nice mission.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Simmons wished luck to the two members of his squad who were going with them, and they gathered around the jeeps to do a run through of the mission.

Their mission was relatively simple. Get in, steal shit, get out. Wash had only needed a few minutes to explain it to the handful of soldiers they were bringing. Palomo (how on earth had he made Lieutenant) hadn't seemed like he was paying attention, so Tucker made a grudging mental note to make sure he knew what was going on on the drive to the enemy base. Stupid fucking Palomo.

They made good time, and Wash took the lead, as usual. "Split off into teams. Team A, get to cover and wait for the signal. Team B, follow me. We're about to make one hell of a distraction." Wash took Team B around the front of the base while Tucker, Reyes, and Blake snuck around to the back door.

"Donut would love this."

"What, Captain?" Reyes's voice came through the radio.

"Nothing." As expected, the base was poorly-guarded. They only had to get past two men, make it inside, load a car full of crap, and drive out before the distraction was finished. And without alerting any of the other troops. "Reyes, you take them out. Blake, be ready to move in."

"Yes, sir," they said simultaneously.

The sound of five or six explosions came from the front of the base. Before either of the guards had a chance to do more than glance at each other, both of them were on the ground sporting pistol wounds in their necks.

"Nice work, Reyes. Stay here." Tucker prepped his sword and activated his camo unit. He and Blake slipped through the door. They didn't have intel on how many people they'd need to get past, but according to Kimball's map, the storage room was unguarded during that time of day.

Ten feet into the base, Tucker understood why. He and Blake had dodged three soldiers, all of them running off in the direction of the explosions. Apparently there was no need to watch the supplies when there were people wandering around on patrol.

And when there was a highly sophisticated lock on the door. "This is wrong. They weren't supposed to have anything important enough to need this much security." Tucker flipped to Wash's channel. "Hey, Wash? We have a problem."

"Do you need more explosions?"

"No. I can't make it past this lock without tripping the alarms. It's hard-wired into the base's security."

"Something's off here."

"Yeah. What do you want to do?"

For a second, the only sounds were the crashes and shouts coming from the opposite side of the building. Then Wash said, "I'm coming in."

"Are you sure?"

"Nobody else has experience with these locks, and we have enough explosives to keep them busy for a while. Unless you'd rather go back to base empty handed?"

"No." Tucker flipped to the Team A channel. "Reyes, Wash is coming around back. Don't shoot him."

"Yes, sir."

A second later, Wash was on their channel. "Is there anyone still in the hallway?"

Tucker double-checked his motion sensors. The hallway itself was deserted. "Nope. They're all trying to stop Team B."

"Okay." Wash came in, approached the door, and started messing with the lock. "I should be able to open this if one of the generators goes down." He flipped channels, then came back. "Waiting on another explosion."

"What'd you do?"

"Asked Palomo to shoot a rocket at one of their generators."

This time the explosion shook the walls a little.

"Efficient," Tucker commented.

A few tense seconds later, the door slid open. The three of them dove inside just as soldiers started coming around the corner, no doubt heading for the trashed generator.

Tucker glanced around the room. Weapons, food, vehicles, check, check, and check. "Thanks, Wash. We can take it from here."

"You sure?"

Palomo flipped onto their channel and said, "Colonel Washington? We could use some help out here."

"One sec." Wash turned to Tucker. "Switch over to our channel when you're ready to move out."

"Will do." Tucker and Blake started loading supplies into the biggest truck they could find.

"Captain Tucker?" Reyes sounded urgent.

"What?"

"We've got company."

"Shit. Wash, you're going to need to find another way back outside."

"I'm on it."

"Do you need a camo unit?"

"No. I'll be fine." Then he switched channels again, and Tucker felt an unpleasant feeling in his gut. He hadn't realized how much he hated being separated from Wash until it was happening.

Tucker reminded himself Wash could take care of himself and did another scan of the room. "There has to be a reason they put that lock on..."

"Should I stop loading the supplies, sir?"

"No. Do as much as you can. We move out in five." Tucker peered between stacks of crates, wracking his brain to think of something that would be valuable enough to keep under such high security. The supplies in one corner weren't labeled. Tucker yanked up the corner of a crate lid. "Shit. Get over here, Blake."

"Sir? Are those teleportation cubes?"

"Yeah. Help me jam these in the truck and we can-" an explosion went off on the other side of the south storage room wall. "Fuck." Tucker switched channels. "What's going on, Wash?"

"They found me. I had to improvise."

Tucker almost didn't hear the second sentence. The one that implied he was okay. He wanted to go after him anyway. Then the storage room door slid open and he was covering Blake.

Wash's voice came through a second later. "You ready to move out?"

"Yeah! See you around the front." Tucker cut down the nearest guard, smashed the button for the bay door to open, and jumped into the passenger seat of the truck. He turned to Blake as the guards opened fire on them. "Please tell me you got at least one of those crates into the back."

Blake straightened up (they'd had to duck to avoid the windows) and gunned it. "We have two, sir."

She slowed just enough for Reyes to climb onto the truck from where she'd taken cover behind a rock. Tucker opened the door for her and made room. "Was the mission a success, sir?"

Tucker waited until he caught sight of one of their warthogs, crammed with Wash and the three members of Team B, speeding away from the fuck ton of damage they’d done to the front of the base. The feeling of relief threw him off balance. "Yeah."

The last of them had clicked into the group channel, and most of them cheered. They still weren't out of range of their enemies, but they were far enough away that everything but a few sniper bullets completely missed them. Even those didn't come close to their targets; the warthog was in front, and both drivers were swerving as much as they dared.

Tucker didn't relax until their explosive cargo had stopped taking fire and they were sure they weren't being followed. Charon wasn't going to chase after a few stolen supplies when they could just get more.

Reyes’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Captain Tucker, sir? Are you okay?"

Maybe relax wasn't the best word. If they could tell something was wrong through the armor. "I'm fine."

Tucker could feel Wash's eyes on him, but he didn't bother looking. They'd deal with it when they got back to base.

 

"Wash. We need to talk. Now." Tucker stalked off towards his room. Once they were safely inside, he turned on Wash. "What the fuck was that?"

"I made a mistake. You handled it. Like any good squad leader would."

Tucker laughed. "Yeah, if by 'handled it' you mean almost getting my entire team killed again. Almost getting you-" he couldn't finish the sentence.

"You did what you were supposed to do. You secured the supplies and got out with no casualties. Calm down."

"Calm down? You weren’t in my head when I almost came after you! If we hadn't been attacked, I probably would have! We could have all gotten killed!"

"Everything turned out okay, Tucker." Wash’s voice was infuriatingly calm.

"But it might not have been!"

Wash sighed. "We have to face that possibility every time we're out in the field. I thought you'd gotten used to that."

Maybe he had, but a lot had changed over the past week. Tucker forced down his anger and took a breath. "I care too much about you. We should stop going on missions. We're going to get someone killed."

"Tucker-"

"It's done. Are you telling Kimball not to assign us together anymore, or do I have to?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Thank you." Tucker shouldn't have been surprised by how tired he sounded. He took off his helmet and threw it on the bed. After the day they'd had, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"You should get some rest," Wash said. Like he could read Tucker's mind. Which he maybe could a little at that point. He could definitely read his face. "I wouldn't want to distract you."

Tucker glanced up only to realize Wash still had his helmet on. Well. If that's how he wanted to do this. "Fine. You sleep, too, then. You aren't looking too great."

A hint of amusement crept into Wash’s voice as he said, "I'm wearing full body armor."

Tucker stared into his visor, refusing to drop the seriousness. "Doesn't mean I can't tell."

Wash waited a second longer, sighed, and headed towards the door. He paused at the threshold, but didn't turn around. "See you later, Tucker."

"Bye, Wash."

 

Tucker slept like shit.

He and Wash hadn’t run into each other for the rest of the day. Whether that was because Wash was holing up in his room or because Tucker was avoiding the places he knew he might be, the awkward confrontation they would have had never came. Tucker locked his bedroom door an hour earlier than usual and started making failed attempts to sleep. He thought he’d at least have a chance, given he’d slept so little the night before, but no. The icy sheets on the right side of the bed kept reminding him how used to sharing a bed he’d gotten, even given the ridiculously short amount of time they’d been together, and every time he started thinking of Wash his thoughts went in circles. I miss him, you shouldn’t. This fight is fucking stupid, you need some time apart.

Eventually the half of him that was falling for Wash won out and he stopped trying to justify the sort-of fight. Tucker had overreacted. Handling things afterwards didn’t undo the fact that he’d lashed out at Wash. Tucker actually got up and put on pajama pants three times only to decide, three times, that it would be better for both of them to have some time to think and that showing up at Wash's door in the middle of the night was clingy and inconsiderate.

Showing up at five a.m., when he knew Wash would be awake, was something else.

Wash pulled the door open too quickly. Tucker didn't care. Wash sounded surprised and breathless as he said, "I was debating on whether or not to come see you."

Tucker placed a hand on his chest, pushed him back into his room, and shut the door behind them.

He let his hand fall a few inches, about to drop it, but Wash grabbed it and held it there. His eyes were intense, and insistent, and so blue Tucker could drown in them. "I don't want to sleep with you not in my bed. Like, ever again."

Tucker smiled his most lascivious smile and guided them a few steps back toward the bed in question. "Neither do I."

"We only have an hour before practice," Wash said as his calves hit the edge of the bed.

"So?"

Wash opened his mouth to protest, but apparently thought better of it. Tucker took advantage of the opportunity to kiss him. He'd made it into Wash's lap and guided his hand into the ass of his wholly unnecessary pajama bottoms before Wash managed, "You're going to be training in less than an hour."

Tucker kept his tone even. "Make-up sex with you is worth it."

Wash proved him right.

They were finishing strapping into their armor (Tucker had run back to get his, which he shouldn't have, because the whole secret relationship thing was a lot more fun when they were forced to spend time apart, but after the events of the last twenty-four hours he really just wanted to be near him and didn't give a shit how hopeless that made him) when Wash asked a question Tucker probably should have assumed he'd ask at some point. "If I asked you to stop hitting on other people, would you actually do it?"

"Is that you asking, or is this hypothetical?"

"La-"

Before he could start doing _that_ , Tucker said, "Unfortunately the answer is 'no.' I have an image to maintain. If it makes you feel any better, I check out your ass way more often than anyone else's."

Wash sounded disappointed and unimpressed. "I guess that's the best consolation I could have hoped for."

"Don't pull that relationship crap on me. Or did you actually want me to start calling you 'David' when we're alone?" Tucker raised his eyebrows and prayed Wash wouldn't be able to see through him. Because emotional intimacy sounded awesome and it was fucking terrifying.

"No. That won't be necessary. We can just keep... doing this... indefinitely." There was an undertone of something worse than disappointment in his voice, but Tucker didn't have a chance to deal with it, because Caboose had just opened Wash's door and fuck had Tucker actually forgotten to lock it?

"Tucker. Carolina wants you in the war room." How had he fucking known Tucker would be in Wash's room?

"Thank you, Caboose," Wash said, and Caboose disappeared.

"So, like you were saying," Tucker said. "This. Indefinitely. Great. If you'll excuse me, I have an important military meeting to attend. You should probably come, too, since you have more experience than all the reds and blues combined."

"Is that you asking, or is this hypothetical?"

"Dude please don't make me sit through this bullshit alone."

"Fine. But I'll need to stop by the training room and tell them practice is cancelled. And we should probably talk about going public with… whatever this is at some point in the near future."

Tucker just managed to keep the panic out of his voice as he said, "Last time I checked we were really good friends who also had sex. And feelings. No need to fuck that up trying to define it."

"Tucker."

"Alright. If you come to this stupid meeting, I will consider talking to you about feelings." Saying it sounded stupid, but avoiding it was probably worse. No need to add cowardice to his extensive list of questionable-at-best qualities. Tucker picked up his helmet and turned to leave.

They were almost at the door when Wash said, "Aren't you going to bring your sword?"

"Yeah, thanks. What would I do without you?"

"Probably the same thing. Except you'd have fewer orgasms and no one to talk to."

"That was rhetorical." Tucker grabbed his sword and opened the door. "But you have a point."

The meeting was about as shitty as Tucker had expected it to be. His first clue should have been Carolina turning to Wash and saying, "Oh, good, you came, too." Because that meant she was about to tell them something important that she would've needed to tell Wash about later if he hadn't come. Next she said something about having a very special mission lined up for them all (also a bad sign) and that they were the only ones she could trust with something so important (god help them).

Carolina wanted them to infiltrate one of the most fortified Charon camps and steal back a piece of Project Freelancer equipment they didn't think Charon had started testing yet.

"Great. Because we did so well on our last mission," Tucker said.

"We haven't been sent out in weeks. I'm not prepared for actual teamwork," Grif said.

"You're never prepared for anything, dumbass," Simmons responded.

"Except a shotgun to the-"

"Sarge!" Wash and Carolina shouted at once. Tucker shot Wash some vibes he knew he'd get even through the helmets, and Wash shook his head slightly, as if to say, 'I know, she's sounding more like Kimball, better not question it.'

"I have full confidence you'll be able to come up with a decent plan over the next two weeks."

"Two weeks? Won't that give them time to start testing the equipment?" asked Wash.

"It might. But they aren't expecting any supply shipments until then, so that's our window."

"Wait," Tucker said. "Are you saying we have to find a way to sneak into the base _with_ their supplies?"

"It's the easiest way in. And after all the supply runs you've been doing lately, you should have more than enough experience with Charon supply storage."

For the first time during the meeting, Tucker agreed with her. "I guess that makes sense."

 

They survived. Barely.

Carolina hadn't had a problem with Wash and Tucker being on different teams; according to her, it made sense to divide the reds and blues the way she had, and that included putting Wash on Team A and Tucker on Team B. Wash hadn’t been in mortal danger until they were trying to escape, and he was about a thousand times better at controlling his emotions halfway through a mission than Tucker was, so they managed not to fuck anything up with their feelings.

Except Tucker’s feelings felt way more complicated when they got back than he thought they would.

He thought he’d be in for sleep, sex, sleep, sex, etc. until their well-earned day off was over and they went back to constantly thinking about each other while they did normal shit.

That was not what happened.

Because after they’d passed out in each other’s arms and woken up, Tucker didn’t want to bang. Well. As much as usual.

He wanted to talk. Badly.

“Good morning.”

“I think it’s night, actually. Yep,” Tucker confirmed with a glance at the clock, “three am.”

“What could we possibly do at three in the morning?” It took about ten seconds of kissing for Wash to realize something was wrong. “Tucker?”

“Um. I kind of want to. Talk.”

“Talk?” They were facing each other on their sides on Wash’s bed and Tucker would have loved to chicken out and break eye contact, but he knew he needed to see Wash’s reactions.

“Yeah. Not about- don’t get me wrong, I am not suggesting we redefine whatever it is we have going on here, necessarily, I just- I think I should tell you something.”

“Okay.” Wash’s eyes were gentle and serious and he looked like he was ready to hear it.

So Tucker ripped off the bandage. "I think I'm in love with you."

Wash sucked in a breath. His expression was slightly different but Tucker was not mentally capable of figuring out how. "Really?"

"Really,” Tucker said.

Finally, when Tucker had started wondering how he put up with all these dramatic fucking pauses, Wash smiled. Actually really really smiled. Like. Tucker had probably not seen one of those almost ever. "The feeling's mutual."

Tucker threw his arms around him. "You're a melodramatic dick."

"I know." Wash’s hand snaked around his back, anyway.

"If there was an award, you'd win it. Seriously."

"I know." They laid like that for a minute. "Hey, Tucker?"

"Hmm?" He glanced up.

"I love you."

Christ he was beautiful. Tucker smiled and blinked. "I love you too."

The smile that lit up Wash's face when Tucker said it, ten times better than the one he'd had before, made all the bullshit worth it.

Tucker sealed the memory away in a corner of his mind and snuggled into Wash's chest. "You're still an asshole."

"Yeah. But so are you."

"Fuckin' perfect for each other."

"Match made in heaven."

 

They had talked more and slept more and had some incredibly sappy sex and wasted the better part of their morning off when Tucker realized something that could best be discussed using a shitty comparison. "How do Locus and Felix do it?"

"What?" Wash had to know Tucker was talking about something other than their work.

"Come on. You can't have not picked up on that."

“Ah.” Wash thought about it for a second. "I think... I think it's because, at the end of the day, they don't have to worry about anyone except the two of them."

Tucker laughed. "That'd explain it. Team mom Washington and single dad Tucker aren't exactly no-strings-attached kind of people."

“Single? I’m hurt.”

“Shut up.” Tucker reached out to pull Wash closer to him. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about the team mom part?”

Wash laughed into his neck. “Nope. I kinda got used to that a long time ago, actually. You’d understand if- wait, no, you should understand. You’ve led Caboose in some capacity, right?”

“Yep. And I never want to do it again. I am perfectly happy remaining part of the support squad.”

"You're a good parent, you know."

"Um. I don't seem to recall you ever witnessing a direct interaction-"

"No. I mean- you care about Junior. That's kind of requirement number one for being a decent parent."

Tucker was still massively surprised, but he could roll with it. "Thanks, man. That means a lot coming from someone I one day hope will meet my kid beyond being in the room during occasional video calls. Granted we don't break up by then."

"I wasn't planning on breaking up with you."

"Good. Neither was I."

Wash sounded sleepy again. "Do you think he likes me?"

"Shit, dude. He thinks you're the coolest one on the blue team. Now that he's old enough to realize it's not me."

"You're pretty good." Wash took such a slow breath Tucker thought he'd fallen asleep, but then he said, "Could him thinking I'm cool have anything to do with you telling stories?"

"What makes you think I don't exaggerate my role in every victory we've ever had?"

"Maybe that time," Wash was smiling against his neck, "that I was cleaning my armor when we were out on the road with Carolina and I heard you saying it was fine I was on the team because I was a kickass leader and I'd help you guys stay safe."

"I thought I took that call inside my helmet."

"You left your radio on."

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Nope." Yeah, he was definitely still close to passing out. "I didn't realize... you had a massive crush on me even then."

"Wash." Tucker put a hand on his head.

"Tucker."

"We can discuss this when you wake up."

"Mmm. Okay. I'm gonna dream about it."

 

"I think we should tell them."

"What?" Wash had just gotten out of the shower.

Tucker was leaning against the wall, face set. "You know, god forbid anything happens. It'll be a lot easier dealing with it if they know."

Wash didn't have to ask if he was being serious; he switched right into reassuring mode, dropping the towel and reaching out to grip Tucker's forearm. "Nothing's going to happen. We're going to kick Hargrove's ass and help the people of Chorus get their planet back."

"I know. But just in case."

Wash nodded. "So, when do you want to do it?"

"Um, tonight? My room, eight p.m., bring lube?"

Wash's expression switched from 'Tucker no' to confusion in a split second. "Wait, you're out of lube?"

"I know, it's ridiculous."

"That's not- I meant when do you want to tell people about us?"

"Here we go with this again."

"I believe you were the one who suggested it."

"Never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

Wash was grinning. "Probably not."

"You're enjoying this waaaay too much." Tucker thought about it. "I guess we could tell them tomorrow. Wouldn't want to ruin the rest of their day off with whatever horrifying mental images they may or may not have after we tell them."

"I'd rather not think about that, either." Wash's smile settled into one that was more happy and less reveling in Tucker's discomfort. "But okay."

“Oh, shit, wait. One condition.”

“What?” His fingers tensed on Tucker's arm. Wash actually looked nervous.

Well. Maybe he should be. “You’re telling Carolina.”

The smile was back. “I’m telling you, she already knows.”

“And I’m telling you she’s too busy trying to get into Kimball’s pants to worry about anyone else’s love life.”

"We talk sometimes. I feel like if she was trying to get with Kimball-"

"She'd tell you? Like you told her about us?"

"Good point."

"I love you, but sometimes you seem like the most clueless person on this entire planet."

"Say that again."

"You're clueless."

"The other part."

"I love you."

Wash was beaming. "I love you, too."

Yeah. Tucker could get used to this. And to ending conversations with making out. That was good, too.

 

Tucker decided it'd be best to shatter Church's illusions before Wash told Carolina and by default him. “When have I ever told you I’m straight?”

The two of them were standing a probably-safe distance away from Carolina. Or, well, Church was floating, but he looked like he was standing, so same difference. “This is, like, version three of me, Tucker. My memory isn’t exactly reliable. And, I don’t know, man, you’ve only ever hit on girls.”

“I want you to take a look around and give me a single reason that wouldn’t make sense in this context.”

“Oh. Yeah, that, uh... that makes sense.”

“No kidding. Is there anything else offensive you’d like to ask me?”

“Technically I didn’t _ask_ -”

“Church.”

“Alright. I’m sorry I didn’t… We were friends for a while. It seems like something I’d know about you.”

“You said that about me being black, too. And I guess we can still be friends if you make a conscious effort not to be an asshole this time around.”

“Fair enough. Can I ask you one more thing?”

This was going to be good. “What?”

“I cleaned out like half your computer storage unit, and-”

“Nope.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yeah. Next time I feel the need to be around someone whose smartass comments aren’t also freakishly observant, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah. Wait, are you talking about Wash?”

“Goodbye.” Tucker turned and walked out of range, and Church reappeared at Carolina’s shoulder. Tucker snagged Wash from the training room and headed for the weapons department, because he was getting this over with and telling the reds, like, now.

They were surprised, if not as surprised as Tucker had expected them to be.

"You two did seem to have a connection," Donut said.

"I always knew you were meant to be together," Caboose agreed.

And then Sarge had to be smug, because he was him. "Yeah. It was pretty obvious."

"More or less obvious than Grif and Simmons?" Tucker said.

"What?" They screeched in unison, voices cracking.

Tucker shut his mouth for a minute so Wash could calm them down. He was absolutely shooting disbelieving side glances at Tucker the whole time through his helmet, 'how are they still more clueless than me' kind of looks, and Tucker was shooting 'fuck if I know' back to him.

“Wait a minute,” Grif said slowly. “Do you mean to tell me that Tucker has been using shitty pickup lines on Wash for all this time and we haven’t noticed?”

Tucker could have mentioned that an irrational fear of rejection had kept him from being obvious about it until recently, but he doubted that was relevant. “I think you guys tune me out pretty often. Which made this whole secret relationship thing fun for about ten minutes. Then it just got frustrating.”

Wash sighed. “I do not want to talk about this.”

“And I don’t want to keep having to remind you to take shorter showers. Seriously. If I have to hear you bitch about dry skin one more time-”

“Okay, okay. I’m leaving. I’m sure Carolina has something for me to do in the base. That does not involve me remaining a part of this conversation.”

"Don't forget to tell her."

"Right. I'll see you later, Tucker." The only parting gesture they exchanged was Wash touching Tucker's arm, but they got a chorus of 'ew' anyway.

“What were we talking about before you showed up?” Simmons asked.

“I don't care. But I'm actually here for a reason other than to offend your delicate sensibilities. Carolina wanted me to debrief you. Charon still sucks, the plan is still to kick their asses. In the meantime if you don’t get in shape she’ll gut you in your sleep. I think it’s safe to assume that means training.”

“You know what they say about assuming things,” Caboose said.

“I’m going to leave before he comes up with another creative way to make my life fucking miserable.” Tucker went to find Wash and Carolina. He didn't want to be there if she got pissed, but he definitely wanted to be there to see the aftermath.


End file.
